Shop the madness at packed O.C. mall

What follows is but a snapshot in time of an insane, buy-it-even-though-you-don't-need-it feeding frenzy that occurs every year on Dec. 26, which of course is better known as the day after Christmas.

I arrived at South Coast Plaza in Costa Mesa a little after 9 a.m., figuring that I would arrive a little early to observe the day-after sales madness.

It was something, I was told, I had to witness personally, that it would be a good exercise in seeing Orange County in action, that maybe I could even pick up a sweater or two while I was at it.

The place was packed.

And packed, I have come to discover, is quite a relative term. Everyone I encountered on this day all exclaimed the same thing: “This is nothing!” Maybe, I think now, I have been away from Southern California too long.

I'm virtually swimming through people along the walkways, dodging and being tripped by innumerable toddlers and their strollers, coming face to face with a multiple bag-carrying elderly woman in the shoe department of Bloomingdale's because there was no way to avoid it in a swarm of shoppers. If this is “nothing,” I never want to see or know what “something” looks like.

Still, you make the best of things.

Stephanie Barnum, 36, of Newport Beach called her sister, Beverly, 46, of Van Nuys, who had spent the night at their parents' Irvine home, at 6:20 a.m.

Get up, she told Beverly, we are going shopping.

It is why you do not see their photographs in these pages today. They had not showered. Their hair was pulled back into buns. There was no makeup.

I caught up with them as they stood at the tail end of what had to be a 75-person line on the second floor of Banana Republic.

The shopping mall, I would be remiss by not telling you, was at least 85 percent populated by women. The few men present were seated in the walkways, waiting. Or they were being led by the hand by their spouses or girlfriends to their next waiting spot.

It is why the Barnum sisters came up to the men's section on the second floor. Men will not wait in such a long line, they told me. If they enter it, they will not last long in it.

Indeed, the line downstairs in the women's department was nearly twice as long. It was populated totally by women.

Thao Le, 37, of Costa Mesa was at its tail end. In her arms were two pairs of pants, two sweaters and one blouse. She had been already in line for a half-hour and still could not see the cashier station. She did not care.

“If I had time restraints, I would not be in this line,” she told me. “But everything is 50 percent off. If it takes me two hours to get through, I will be here.” It does indeed take nearly that long.

Amid the shopping mayhem, you at times seek a more peaceful, quieter space. At this hour, that was the returns line at Macy's.

At the end of it was Tracy Grotz, 43, of Ridgewood, N.J. She was returning two Michael Kors handbags she had purchased for her daughter, Kylie, 19, as a Christmas present. Kylie hated them, she said.

Each bag cost $260.

“OK, she doesn't hate them,” she said, “but she doesn't like them enough to keep them, given their cost.”

Watching this, I cannot ever envision my parents buying me $260 worth of anything, much less me dragging them back to the store to return it. God love you, Kylie.

On a bench outside of Macy's sits Jennifer Cody, 47, of Orange. She is laden with bags and appears exhausted. In fact, she arrived at the mall just before 8 a.m. She tore through it.

She, too, has just purchased a pair of handbags – Michael Kors, of course – that two days before had retailed for $700 apiece. She got both for just under $300.

For handbags? I ask her, feigning shock.

“That's what most men say,” she explained. “Women like shoes and purses, period,” she said. “Regardless of the cost.”

Nearly an hour has passed when I catch up with the Barnum sisters in Banana Republic. They are two shoppers away from reaching the cashier. They also have many more items draped over their arms. They have spent the time, they explain, “tag-teaming” the store.

One of them stands in the line while the other shops, they explain. Stephanie has picked up a pair of size 10 buckskin shoes for her boyfriend, something she says she would have never thought to do had the line been shorter.

After more than an hour of waiting, Beverly pays $57.66 for an armful of clothes and Stephanie another $177.99 for the pile of shoes, dresses, pants and blouses she has selected, which only days earlier would have cost nearly $400.

I spend maybe a half-hour with them as the sisters move on to Bloomingdale's, which is – is “packed” the word now? – packed with shoppers.

They strafe the clothing racks. They try on everything only, at the end, to end up with one single blouse. I bid them adieu. I have had enough of this day-after madness.

By the time I reach my car, scores of others are streaming into the parking lot.

Perhaps what is arriving is the “something” I promised myself never to see.

User Agreement

Keep it civil and stay on topic. No profanity, vulgarity, racial
slurs or personal attacks. People who harass others or joke about
tragedies will be blocked. By posting your comment, you agree to
allow Orange County Register Communications, Inc. the right to
republish your name and comment in additional Register publications
without any notification or payment.